


A Long Way Down

by Dekka



Series: Postural Hypotension AU [6]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Top ten worst places to pass out? Mitch would say the All Star Game places pretty high.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Series: Postural Hypotension AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550362
Comments: 11
Kudos: 142





	A Long Way Down

Mitch wakes up on a bathroom floor, the lights above him blinding. It's worrisome that he doesn't know where he is, but his focus quickly changes pace to the hands gripped in his shirt collar, shaking him into awareness. 

It takes two blinks more for the blurry face in front of his own to clear. With wide, whiskey eyes terrified, Auston stares down at him. It shouldn't be Mitch's first thought, but he cant help the moment he takes to just stare and admire how impossibly cute his boyfriend is from this angle. His head is swimming, he reasons with himself. He cant be blamed for the way his priorities ver off path. 

While the rest of the world takes it's time swirling into focus, Mitch finally starts to make sense of the words floating in the air around him. “ _Mitchy, come on, please_.” 

It’s hard to remember what he’s supposed to do in situations like these. There’s fog in his head and cotton in his mouth, and raising a hand to try to cover Auston’s prodding fingers proves to be too much work, too soon. Mitch’s limbs feel heavy and his coordination still shot. 

He wonders finally then what happened, how he ended up in a bathroom, where in the world he even is. 

Letting his head lull to the right, he takes in light cabinets so unlike the dark ones they have at home. They’re too nice to be at a rink, too. A party then, maybe?

Auston pulls his head back forward, his fingers warm on Mitch’s clammy skin. “ _Can you hear me_?” 

He sounds desperate. Worried. Mitch wonders what could’ve shaken him this bad. 

Letting his eyes trail to the left gives him no answers. There’s just a shower and a bathmat that’s not nearly thick enough to have helped his landing when he must’ve fainted. 

“ _Mitch_ ,” Auston begs, and turns his head back to him again. Even this close, hovering right over him, he sounds far away. 

Mitch tries to move his lips, but getting sound to bloom from his chest is harder than it should be. It feels like he maybe can’t breathe, like everything’s happening too slow. 

Above and behind him, someone moves and their head blocks out the lights above him. They’re just a silhouette, but Mitch has known Freddie for too long not to recognize him. “ _We should get help_.” 

“ _Are you crazy?_ ” Mitch follows Auston’s voice to his face, watching as his eyebrows furrow together. “ _I bet there’s a thousand reporters on this floor_.” 

So, a hotel then. 

Like he was just missing one piece to the puzzle, each memory fills itself in. The whole picture is unsettling at best. 

There was the All Star Game Media, a player’s lounge, and then they went out to one of the other guys’ hotel rooms. 

It’s a hell of a way to start off the first night. 

“W’a happened?” His lips form clumsily over the words, his chest still too tight- from panic, maybe. 

Above him, Auston seems to finally breathe. On his first full exhale, Mitch’s name is on his lips, so relieved he’s nearly panting with it. "Mitch, thank God, you weren't coming up." 

“What happened?” Mitch asks again. He has to take a break between words, drawing air in too slowly to fully get them to sound right. 

He wonders in that moment if he should’ve stayed home like his Doctor suggested. _"Too many episodes so close together,"_ she had said, worried around clearing him for a flight. Mitch had just smiled at her, his response overly cocky at best. " _That means I'm not due for another string of episodes so soon,_ "

Now look at him, he thought ruefully. 

“We’re in McDavid’s suite Mitchy,” Freddie tells him, nice and slow like he needs it to be. “He invited everyone back here to start off the night.” He seems somehow reluctant to go on. 

Luckily, Matts picks up right where Fred left off. “Everyone’s here, Mitch. There’s no way we can get out of the bathroom without people noticing.” Auston’s never really been one to hold back on the truth of the punches that get thrown their way. 

As if on cue, taunting them, someone knocks on the door. All they can do is stare at each other, each of them tense with fear. 

“Mitchy?” The relief is tangible as Connor's voice echoes past the door. Of all the players, at least it’s the one who knows what’s probably going on. 

“Can you help me up?” Mitch asks Fred as Auston goes to let him squeeze in. 

As if looking for permission, Freddie looks to Auston. 

“Come on,” Mitch grumbles, impatient, and finally, Freddie helps him sit up and gently pulls him back so he can rest against one of the cabinets. 

Connor, when he slips past the crack in the door that Auston allows, looks terribly apologetic. He at least has the decency to throw a “You good?” at Mitch and wait for a confirming nod before he goes on. “So,” he starts reluctantly, as if trying to pull the blow of his words, “someone came up to me joking about how the Toronto kiddies were doing drugs in the bathroom.” 

It makes sense in a weird, sad way. What else would three hockey players need to do outside of the eyes of other players in the league? 

“They’re going to say shit about you too now,” Auston says. He hasn’t stopped moving since he opened the door for Connor, his hands busy doing something Mitch cant see from his spot, sitting on the floor. 

“What don’t they say?” Connor looks altogether too uncaring, his shrug nonchalant. It’s all a front. 

Mitch’s heartache in that moment is quickly overshadowed by Auston, who kneels down in front of him with a wet washcloth and a glass of water. “Slow sips,” he says, his smile small and sad. 

With still-shaking hands, Mitch manages to pull the glass to his lips and revel in the feel of cool water coating his dry mouth. It only takes a couple of sips until he feels good enough to move himself around, wiggling into a more comfortable position on a floor that’s doing no favors for his now-aching hip. 

At his side, Freddie lays a hand on his knee. It’s a gentle reminder to stay sitting down. 

“What are we going to do?” Connor leans against the counter like he’s in this for the long run, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“What if we told the truth?” Everyone looks to Auston. It's a crazy suggestion at best. Mitch thinks of all those players and wonders who would be the first to accidentally say something to the media. It only takes one. 

“No,” he decides and Auston nods, the idea torn from his head as easy as that. 

“We could say Mitch has the Flu?” Freddie’s idea is just plain enough to work. They break it down before they break up their group, going in waves. Connor leaves first, followed by Fred. They spread the lie around until Fred texts Auston the all clear. 

Mitch is just pale enough as he's pulled to his feet and through the hotel room that the other players around them give sympathetic nods goodbye instead of suspicious glances. 

It only makes sense that with their escape too easy, Mitch feels his body start to learn forward as he’s talking to Auston in the locker room the next day. 

He tries to sit up straighter, to pinch his thigh to stop focusing on the way the edges of his vision feel a little funny, but he doesnt feel right. 

He has Auston’s name already on his lips when his boyfriend’s hand locks tight around his arm. 

The brashness of his voice, suddenly so loud and clear, saying, “Someone close the locker room doors, no one in or out,” is the last thing Mitch hears before his ears start ringing. 

***

Auston, by default, is terribly familiar with Mitch’s disorder. It’s the unfocused, slow blinks that are coming from Mitch that cue him into what’s about to happen before Mitch even gets a chance to call out to him. 

“Mitchy-“ 

But this one has come on too fast, forcing Mitch’s body forward as his eyes roll back. “Hey, stay with me,” Auston begs, hands going up to try to keep Mitch sitting. It’s no use. Mitch is fading fast. He knows what he has to do. “Someone close the locker room doors,” he says, looking desperately around the room for an ally. “No one in or out.” 

It’s Nathan MacKinnon who goes to seal the door without question at hearing the pure panic coming from Auston.

It’s only then that he can focus on the increasing weight leaning into him. “Mitchy?” There’s no response, just a deeper furrow to Mitch’s brows. 

“Help me,” he says to the closest guy, Elias Pettersson. With two of them, it’s a lot easier to pull Mitch from his stall and to the floor. 

“Get a trainer, quietly,” he tells Elias. The fearfully wide eyes he’s met with look like they’re barely comprehending what’s happening. “Make sure they’re with the leafs,” Auston adds, as an afterthought. They don’t need any more people in on this. 

As Elias goes, with a promise to return quickly, Auston finally lets his attention fall completely to Mitch. He's easier to focus on than the stares of half the best players in the league. 

The peaceful, oblivious set to his face is hard to comprehend as their world changes around Auston’s eyes so quickly. All he can do is run through his mental check-list. Head, is fine; Mitch was brought to the ground gently. His legs need to be bent, though, so Auston pulls them up one at a time before he moves onto vitals. 

With a steady heart rate, clammy skin, and a perfectly rhythmic rise and fall to his chest, Auston has no choice but to wait. 

It never takes too long, but even the short time is enough for Auston to look around the room of shocked, sullen faces of the stars of the national hockey league and know that tonight is going to be long. 

“He’s okay,” he promises to the room. The unbelieving stares he receives back don’t bode well for them. 

He’s saved from having to explain himself by the locker room doors inching open just enough for Fred to slip through. Auston hates that it calms him. 

“Thank God,” he breathes, inching over so that Fred can help too.

“He made it the ground alright?” Fred does his own check-through of Mitch’s vitals and recovery positioning. It’s something their whole team received training on, and something Auston’s surprised—and thankful—everyone took so seriously. 

“He’s been out for about half a minute,” Auston tells him, checking his own watch to catalog the time incase the background countdown in his head goes astray. 

“Not too bad, yet,” Freddie promises. 

Both of them clam up as some of the Vets circle closer. Time in panic is making them antsy for a resolution. “Can I help with anything?” It’s Pastrnak that asks, bending down to get to their level. “Willy mentioned before that he needed emergency recovery training,” he explains. His eyes wont leave Mitch’s prone body. “He never said who it was for, but…” It seems like there’s more he wants to say as he trails off. 

It only takes another second for the heavy silence in the room to force more words from the vet. “Will was pretty broken up about some of it,” he admits, softly. “I don’t blame him,” he says then, even softer. “This is terrifying.” 

“Willy worries.” Auston hopes it sounds reassuring. “Mitch, is- he’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Seguin shake his head at his words. The anxiety in the room is palpable. 

It’s only then that Auston remembers some of these guys were around for the Peverly incident. 

“This is a known medical condition,” Fred says to the room, as if reading Auston’s mind. He speaks so authoritative, in a way that pushes out doubt and cant be questioned. “Our trainers know how to handle this and they’re on their way. Mitch is fine.” 

As if proving his words, Mitch’s breathing changes, speeding up like it always does before he wakes up after an episode. 

***

White, bright lights are always the worst to wake up to. Their brilliance disarms just as their hue brings back memories of hospital rooms and doctor’s visits. 

It’s a terrible experience, only made worse when Mitch prematurely forces his eyes to fully open. 

He’s disoriented, in a fog, with David Pastrnak hanging over him. 

“The fuck?” He asks no one in particular. He's woken up in some weird situations before, but this is a new level of obscurity. 

The chuckle of nervous laughs around the room shock him into alertness. “Aus?” He goes searching, but his boyfriend’s hand finds his wrist before he even has to physically look for him. “You’re okay, Mitchy. You passed out before we could get you to the trainer.”

So, in the locker room, then. With everyone around. Defeated, Mitch lets his head fall back and eyes close. “And where’s Paul?”

“On his way,” Auston promises. 

Mitch wonders how many non discloser agreements the leafs PR team keep on hand at any given moment. 

“Did everyone see?” He asks.

Auston doesnt answer. 

It’s that bad, then, Mitch acknowledges. 

“ _Hey _,” It’s Matt Barzal this time, his long hair falling forward as he leans into Mitch’s view, “no one here is going to say anything.”__

__Mitch knows, despite best intentions, secrets like these never stay quiet for long._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer :) Let me know what else you'd like to see in this AU series!


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